


A Sort of Homecoming

by Evil_Jacquie



Category: Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-15
Updated: 2011-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-14 18:56:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evil_Jacquie/pseuds/Evil_Jacquie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Old West smoop with Chris and Buck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sort of Homecoming

A Sort of Homecoming

The leaves were ablaze with colors as Buck rode up to Chris’s cabin. “Another day or two and they would be gone,” Buck thought. “Already the nights are getting colder, perfect snuggling weather.”

He lazily slide out of Steele’s saddle and led the gelding into the corral, before removing saddle, blanket and bridle. A quick brush down, an apple as a treat, and Buck was heading for the warm light shining through the window.

As his heels thudded on the steps leading up to the small porch the door opened, “Took your time.”

The dry rasp of voice didn’t betray the mischievous smile that lit the green eyes.

“You feelin’ anxious there, Stud?”

“No. I know a sure thing when I see it.” A wicked grin heating Buck’s blood, “You hungry?”

“Uh huh.” A leer and waggle of eyebrows answered Chris’s question. Buck moved a little closer to his friend. “I’m downright starved here.” The slightest bend of knees, fingers sliding into silky blonde hair, and the huff of breath just before their lips brushed. He slid his hands up and around the broad shoulders as bodies were molded together. “Mmmm. Mighty tasty.” Buck smacked his lips.

“Yeah. Think you want some more?” The gleam in those deep blue eyes answered that question.

Chris grinned. “Careful now, folk’ll talk.” He leaned up and caught the full lower lip in his teeth. Buck made a little moaning sound and let Chris pull him closer. A long deep kiss later, Chris stepped back and stumbled as he discovered that both his shirt and his britches had mysteriously come unbuttoned. Clutching as he pulled his pants back up he chuckled, “Guess I was a mite distracted.”

Buck waggled his eyebrows again, “Guess you was.” Then the rascal’s grin softened into a smile. “Hope you don’t mind, I’m not trying to rush you none. We got all night.”

“We got longer than that. I ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Chris stroked his hand over Buck’s shirt and fingered the bone buttons out of their slots. Chris tugged the shirt loose from the tan trousers he continued unbuttoning, slowly revealing more and more of the broad chest and then sliding the suspenders off Buck’s shoulders, “I guess I’ll be the one rushing you this evening.”

“Bout time that you caught up is more like.” Buck murmured. Chris knew without looking that his clothes were in disarray again, there was some kind of stealthy magic in Buck’s fingers. Clothes just magically came undone; skin revealed at the touch of his hands, not that Chris was complaining.

“Could we at least move this inside?” Chris muttered, nothing worse than getting all wound up and then realizing they needed to get inside. Chris didn’t mind camping out, but he wanted at least a bedroll between him and the ground when they did this. Buck didn’t particularly care one way or the other. Anytime, any place, was right for Bucklin T. Wilmington, and in general, he usually managed to convince Chris of that, at least temporarily. For once Chris wanted to avoid the embarrassment of grass stains and having sand and dirt in uncomfortable places.

Just this once Buck decided to let Chris have his way; the cabin wasn’t that far away and Buck was feeling generous.


End file.
